


A Drunken Man's Words

by FeathersOnTheLeather



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeathersOnTheLeather/pseuds/FeathersOnTheLeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a little too much to drink ends up letting the cat out of the bag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Drunken Mans Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Treelight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treelight/gifts).



> Written for "Dribs, Drabs and Doggy Tales!" over at Adultfiction.net with the prompts: arsenic, amorous, and ache.  
> *I own none of these characters, sadly*

Sherlock looked up, eyebrow cocked in a rather inquisitive manner as John, drunk, came stumbling into the sitting room. Sherlock was still trying to figure out how John had managed to navigate the stairs without breaking his neck, seeing as he almost toppled over just trying to untie his shoes...

“What?” John snapped, trying with some difficulty to focus his eyes.

“Nothing,” Sherlock murmured, raising that eyebrow even higher.

John felt himself stiffen in his trousers. Hell, the man's EYEBROWS even turned him on. He knew this would happen. Knew if he drank he would find it even harder to control himself and his feelings for the beautiful creature curled up in the armchair. Best just to be off to bed and not make a fool out of himself. He opened his mouth to say good night and what came out was: “Get on with it then! What can the GREAT Sherlock Holmes DEDUCE about my evening?”

Sherlock chuckled at the dramatic air quotes John had chosen to throw up as he said “great” and “deduce.” It was curious how John was being confrontational instead of making the quick getaway his mind was TRYING to initiate. He also decided that since John was just going to pretend the erection straining against the front of trousers didn't exist, that Sherlock should ultimately ignore it as well. While out at the pub in the company of some of his old army buddies, John had tried (been pushed?) to bring home a woman (man?), who had obviously turned him down, and now that he was embarrassed and apparently still quite aroused by the prospect of an amorous encounter, he was now lashing out at Sherlock for holding him up and keeping him from presumably going to bed and taking care of his aching loins himself...

However...THIS was curious...the thought of John... (wanking?) was causing a stirring in Sherlock's own loins. Hmmm. Normally he didn't even...

“STOP IT!” John shouted.

Sherlock's eyes widened. "Sorry?”

“Dissecting me! Stop it!”

“But you said...?”

“I can see you judging me!” John slurred, waving his hand in a circle to indicate Sherlock's face (as if he didn't know where his face was? Honestly, John...) “Your face just keeps judging me!”

“I'm sorry, John, but even in your state you MUST be aware that...”

“In my STATE?”

“Well, yes. You're quite obviously intoxicated and...”

“Well OBVIOUSLY I'm intoxicated! THAT doesn't take a GENIUS to figure out! Obviously intoxicated...” Yet again, air quotes, this time trying to mimic Sherlock's baritone. “What else would it bloody well be? ARSENIC POISONING??”

“Now John, don't be absurd! If you had arsenic poisoning you would be...”

“Oh stop!” (Dramatic eye roll and some arm flailing this time! Drunk John was quite theatrical!) “Why, instead of talking don't you put that beautiful mouth to better use?”

You could almost see that sober part of John's brain screaming at the drunken part to bite his tongue. John's eyes widened, his mouth dropped open...he started stammering, trying to back pedal...and that damn eyebrow of Sherlock's was raised again. Sherlock was now as rock hard as John appeared to be...and hoping that since he was sitting down that John wouldn't notice...the idea of THIS...of bedding his friend (and roommate, remember!), had occasionally popped into Sherlock's head. Despite everything else extraordinary about him, he was still a man, and on occasions when cases had been slow his mind had drifted towards those thoughts...also, he knew John's thoughts on the whole thing. John was painfully easy to read. Maybe tonight. Just maybe...

“What would you suggest I do with my mouth?” Sherlock asked, carefully.

“I didn't...I just...don't listen to me. I'm drunk off my feet.”

“A drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts.” Sherlock mused. John stared at him, obviously even more embarrassed (and if possible, more aroused?) Sherlock could see the other man's mind working, fight or flight battle happening...

“Come to bed with me,” John rushed.

That however, was unexpected. “Sorry?”

“I will never muster the courage sober. So come on. Let's do this. I won't regret it in the morning if that's what you're thinking. Regret will be the furthest thing from my mind knowing that I got to have what I'm sure is a deliciously HUGE...”

"Alright!” Sherlock jumped from his perch as if he had been shocked. “To bed! As you said, no time to waste!”

“Wait...what? But...you're just...what?” John was still stammering as Sherlock pushed him down the hall towards his own bedroom. No point in risking the stairs. John wasn't going to make it past his head hitting the pillow, let alone any other...IDEAS that he seemed so keen to act on at the moment. Sherlock wasn't kidding himself...he was JUST as keen to act, but not with John in this state. His feelings for John were a mystery to him, and now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, perhaps he would finally have a chance to explore them. He cared too much for John however to do anything that could possibly even be considered taking advantage of him.

After helping an almost passed out John out of his jumper and trousers, John collapsed onto Sherlock's bed, sprawled out on his back...Sherlock considered briefly heading to the living room to sleep, but then decided the easiest course of action in initiating something in the morning when John was sober would to already be in the bed with the man. Seemed logical to spend the night in here with John...just in case he should need anything...

Sherlock removed his dressing gown, crawling into bed in his shorts. John immediately rolled over to curl against Sherlock's side, muttering in his sleep and still very hard, from what Sherlock could feel pressed against his thigh. John mumbled something that sounded like “In the morning” as he snaked his arm around Sherlock, his hand coming to rest on Sherlock's own VERY persistent erection. Sherlock sighed. It was going to be a long night...


	2. In the Light of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything looks a little different in the light of day...John wakes up to discover that maybe it wasn't a dream...but what does he do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So someone called for a part 2, and who am I to deny such a thing? For Treelight :)

The early morning light creeping through the shade couldn't POSSIBLY be that bright could it? John squeezed his eyes shut against the harsh intrusion. He was way too old to be drinking that much when out at the pub. Granted, he had been in MUCH worse shape on several mornings of his youth, but it was still way too early for the sun to be blinding him. John decided he'd just go back asleep until it continued a little further on its course. He sighed heavily and buried his face a little deeper into the curls that were...

John's eyes snapped wide open in panic. Oh no, oh no, oh sweet infant baby Jesus, no. That wasn't a dream...he'd really taken Sherlock to bed. Oh god. OH GOD. Had they done anything? John wracked his brain...He recalled a bit of an exchange (a dreadfully embarrassing one) taking place in the sitting room the night before...him saying things he NEVER would of said sober. He recalled Sherlock ushering him to his bed...no...John realized why the glaring sun had been bothering him. He didn't get the sun in the morning in his bed...he got it in the afternoon...he was in Sherlock's bed.

Had Sherlock taken him to his bed? Or had John just gone there of his own accord? Had they...no. No, they couldn't have. John had been in no state last night to perform at all. He was sure he would have remembered bedding Sherlock Holmes, The World's First 34 year old Virgin. Also judging how badly his erection was pushing against Sherlock's arse, nothing had taken place…

John quickly pulled his hips back from the other man that he was currently...Mother Mary he was spooning his flatmate. Wait...really? Never in all of his daydreaming had he ever imagined Sherlock to allow himself to be the little spoon in this tableau...Although it made sense that someone as cold and seemingly unaffectionate in his daily life...Whoa Johnny Boy. Now was NOT the time to be analyzing the mechanics of spooning with his best mate. How the hell was he going to get himself out of this mess with even a shred of his dignity remaining?

Unknown to John, Sherlock was wide awake and had been for some time. He had lain awake for hours the night before struggling with whether or not to go sleep on the couch or in John's empty bed. He also spent a great deal of time thinking about his feelings for the man curled into his side. He could state without a doubt that John was the most important person in his life...the first true friend, let alone BEST friend he had had in his entire life. He couldn’t really pinpoint when it had started to take on more feelings...it had been a slow, gradual realization that he felt feelings of more than friendship towards his flatmate.

The whole thing was perplexing, even for Sherlock. Sure, despite what people liked to insinuate, he had felt sexual arousal before. Normally however it wasn't so much directed at a person, as much as it would occur during that residual high following solving a case. He had also had sex before, which people seemed so quickly inclined to disbelieve. As for rumours of his homosexuality (it was really appalling what papers would try to make into news), he wasn't entirely sure where he had stood on that. He had engaged in sex with both males and females, both of which had not been totally repulsive. He had read a paper one time on how no one was one hundred percent gay or one hundred percent straight...sexuality was a spectrum. As to where he fell on that spectrum he wasn't entirely sure, especially in this moment.

When he had awoke, he could tell John was still out cold. His deep, rhythmic breathing, as well as how heavily his arm was draped across Sherlock's waist made it an easy conclusion. He had always been loath to share his bed with another person but this was not entirely awful. He quite enjoyed how warm and content he had felt with the other man curled up behind him...their bodies fitting together quite perfectly considering the height difference.

His mind was still drifting lazily through such thoughts when he heard John's sudden, sharp intake of breath behind him. Sherlock lay perfectly still, not sure how his friend would react to this situation. Was he horrified? Had Sherlock made a mistake by staying in the bed with John? Had he crossed a line and created cracks in their friendship that he may not be able to repair? John's rather persistent erection pressing against his backside seemed to indicate John was not totally appalled by the idea...or could that just be from it being the morning and nothing else? Either way, Sherlock's own shorts were rapidly tenting in the front at the thought of John's rock hard...

Sherlock felt John pull himself away from his back...withdrawing his arm as well as all his warmth. Sherlock frowned. Really though...what else was he to expect in such a situation? John, no matter what his feelings for Sherlock, was clearly unsure of the whole thing. Sherlock was not entirely sure how to react either, and chose to lay still and continue to feign sleep allowing John to sneak out if he so chose and avoid a very awkward conversation.

John's heart was pounding. He had never been so unsure of how to proceed in a situation in his entire life. Should he say something? He was sure Sherlock had to be awake by this point...but what should he say? Should he apologize for the night before? Should he maybe broach the topic of what this meant to their friendship? Should he ask if Sherlock had lube in here or if he should run upstairs and retrieve his own...

John almost groaned. No. He couldn't continue down that track right now. Or could he? Sherlock had obviously chosen to stay in the bed with him, all night at that. He also seemed to have no objections to John snuggling up to him either. Maybe he should just relax, let things play out and see where it went...

John scooted himself back over in the bed towards Sherlock, snaking his arm around the other man's waist again. To his surprise he felt the other man lean back against him, his hand coming over to entwine his fingers with John's. How long had John been waiting for those hands to touch his? He had known for some time that if there had been a way to progress his relationship with Sherlock without jeopardizing their friendship that he would in a heartbeat...Granted, John had never been with a man before sexually...sure, he had found a select few attractive over the years, and had even shared a few drunken kisses with army buddies, but this was all new territory for him. He just decided to move forward as he would of in the past with a woman in his bed...John started to slowly kiss the back of Sherlock's neck, his face buried in those beautiful curls. He felt Sherlock tense briefly, then shiver, goosebumps erupting along his porcelain flesh.

This was quite new for Sherlock as well. While having had sex before, it had been fairly...clinical? A mutually beneficial endeavor used solely to fulfill both parties biological needs. There had been no real intimacy. John's fingers unclasped from his own and ran so painfully slow over his stomach, tentative fingers just brushing his throbbing member and...

“My god man, are you really so lazy as to sleep past noon?” There was a sharp rap on the bedroom door, which opened abruptly without allowing anyone time to grant access and to the absolute horror of both men, Mycroft Holmes strode into the room. “How do you ever manage to get any work done when you...” the older man trailed off as he took in what was apparently going on before him. Sherlock in all his infinite wisdom, made things 1000 times worse by jumping up out of bed in nothing but his strained shorts and trying to physically usher his brother from the room. John could hear Mycroft also commenting about his surprise of Sherlock being the little spoon as Sherlock gave John a pained look and slammed the bedroom door shut behind him. John groaned and buried his face in his pillow, wishing he'd wake up from what had to be the worst nightmare he'd ever had...


End file.
